


After

by EP1



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Burlesque Club, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EP1/pseuds/EP1
Summary: Alternate Universe where Beel is a bouncer at a Burlseque club and Reader is a dancer trying to score an audition.
Relationships: Beelzebub & Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	After

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt at self insert writing, and writing in second person. It was a piece I had written for a now cancelled fan project. I hope you enjoy it.

The night was cold, and the air damp with the rain yet to come. It was not enough to deter you from what you want. Sadly, you weren’t the only girl that wanted this. There were at least twenty girls all standing in the alley, waiting for the club to close and the auditions to begin. Heavy jackets covered the costumes underneath, but they did nothing to hide the sparkly shoes or lavish stockings. There was one open spot. One chance to be the next dancer on the stage at one of the hottest clubs in the city.

You were determined it was going to be you. The wait had felt like it was going to never end. Girls didn’t quit this job unless they found a man or got in a family way. You knew someone would have to go some time, and while you waited you prepared.

Night after night, you came to the club and watched them. Those beautiful girls that stood in that spotlight, and worked their magic by dancing on the stage. Yours was not the only eyes glued to their every movement, but your eyes watched for different reasons. You studied not just the steps of their dances but the way they held themselves, and the way they smiled. It was magical, as somehow they seemed to convince everyone in the audience that they were the only ones in the room.

You didn’t look like them, those dazzling women on that stage, but it didn’t matter. Music called to you, and your body always answered. You felt like this was what you were born to do, and you were not going to be denied at least the chance to prove it. The costume on your body was at least equal to what the others wore and well worth denying yourself the little luxuries. You made it and took the time to make sure it showcased you just right. 

You looked good. That wasn’t in question. You had the sequins to catch the lights, the feathers to tease the skin, and the tailored corset to push all the curves to the right places. The question was, did you look better than the other nineteen girls shivering in the alley? 

The voice in your head said no. No, you weren’t better than the other girls. It told you to go home and not waste your time. You told it to shut up and held your head high anyway. Screw that little voice, and screw all these other bitches.

Instead of listening to the voice urging you to quit, you listened to the soft sound of the music from the club. You let it wrap up in its arms like a lover and make you feel safe. Your body started to sway gently in time to the muffled sound of the jazz. Not quite dancing yet, but just on the edge of it.

The sound of the door slamming against the brick exterior wall made you open your eyes. First out of the door was the orange-haired giant of a bouncer. You knew his name was Beel because you had heard it shouted often enough when there was trash to be removed inside the building. You knew it, because he sometimes haunted your dreams, and woke with it on your lips.

Beel was tall, one of the tallest men you’d ever seen. His body so broad and muscled that the white dress shirt he wore strained a little at the buttons. He had big hands that were both strong enough to knock a guy out with one punch, yet gentle enough to hold a lady’s while he escorted her to a taxi. He didn’t even know you existed, but your eyes always seemed to search the bar for him between numbers.

You ducked your head when his eyes scanned over your part of the line. Though you could have blamed the cold for the colour in your cheeks, you didn’t want him to see you blush. Even though there should be no threat, he carefully surveyed the alley before motioning for the other man to come out. 

Dammit! You had hoped it would be the musical director that would come out, but no, it was just the head host. You did not like this man. You knew his preferences. They ran to a very particular type and you were not it. He walked the line, taking in each of you twice. He gave a dismissive snort as he favoured you with the most cursory of glances. You held your chin up and did not back down. You belonged here. You just had to make him see that.

One by one, he gestured for girls to step forward. Each twitch of his fingers that didn’t beckon you was like a sharp slap on the face. You endured it, hoping that maybe, just maybe you would be the next one. Or the next one after that. That hope was in vain. He chose only ten of the girls, six of them similar enough that they could have been related. 

You took one step forward, mouth open to plead your case, but froze. The voice was back, telling you that you should have saved yourself the humiliation and not come. That it was time to put away dreams, because they didn’t come true. There was no happy ending to be found. It was time to grow up. 

By the time you silenced it, Beel was stepping into the building and pulling the door shut. His eyes met yours and they looked sad. It looked for a moment like he might have wanted to say something, but all he did was give you a little smile before he shut the door on the job of a lifetime.

Frozen once more, you stared at the door. No. It couldn’t end like this. You could hear the music start, the song you should be dancing to. Marching up to the door, you pounded your fists against it, not really expecting an answer, but you needed to do something.

The rain that was threatening finally started. The drops were few but they fell hard, bringing you back to reality. What would you even say if they opened the door? Would you dodge Beel and run onto the stage, makeup ruined and hair a mess? Demand to dance?

You take a step back. No. You would do none of those things. It was easy to be brave when your opponent was an inanimate object. It was harder when they could talk back.

The song ended and then began anew. Fuck them, you would dance. Even if no one ever saw or cared, you would dance. With the soft circle cast by a streetlight, you took position on centre stage in your mind. You tossed off the jacket, the rain stinging your bare flesh, but you didn’t care. 

All you cared about was the music. Not just the way it moved your body, but how it flowed through your soul. It filled you with life when the world was cold and bleak. It filled you with joy when people only treated you with cruelty and malice. Music made you feel like you knew where you belonged. 

The song ended, and you let out a breath. You wiped at your face, knowing a few tears escaped while you set yourself free. Opening your eyes, you see him was standing there. Beel. Leaning against a wall, an unlit cigarette perched between his lips. His eyes were wide looking at you.

Your first instinct was to look away, but you fought it. You had done nothing wrong. Maybe something a little crazy, but nothing wrong. With as much dignity as you could muster, you crouched down and picked your jacket up off the ground. When you raised your eyes, he was right there in front of you. 

His eyes. You had never seen his eyes this close. Violet with highlights of pink, but more important than the colour was the way he was looking at you. Beel looked at you like you were the only person in the world. With nothing more than just that look, you could be putty in his hands.

But, he didn’t say a word. Grabbing your arm, he tugged you toward the building. 

Maybe you were wrong? Was there some rule about dancing outside the club? Maybe he thought you were trying to attract a different sort of attention? You were advertising the goods, so to speak.

“Have I done something wrong?” you ask.

“No.” He answered with a shake of his head.

“Then where are we going?” Even though you knew the answer, because he was opening the door, you still asked the obvious question.

“Inside.” 

“Why?”

“Because I want to see you dance,” he said.

You couldn’t see his face, and you wanted to see his face. You needed to know what he looked like when he said those words. To try to understand why. Why was he doing this?

The backstage area was dark, and he dragged you along through the maze of equipment and props. You did your best to keep up with him, but his stride was so much longer than yours that it was hard not to stumble. He looked over his shoulder at you apologetically and shortened his steps a little.

He opens one of the dressing rooms and pulls a plush terry cloth robe off of the back of the door. “Dry off, as best you can,” he instructed, tossing it at you. “Luckily it wasn’t raining too hard and the song isn’t that long or you would look like a drowned kitten.” He pulled open one of the drawers and grinned at you. It was a smile full of mischief and excitement. “You can fix your face with this stuff, right? I don’t know anything about makeup, but she’s got plenty of it. It will work, right?”

“Why? Why are you helping me?” The question had to be answered before you took another step on the adventure his expression promised.

“I told you,” Beel replied, his smile never dimming. “I want to see you dance.”

“You just saw me dance,” you answered.

Beel lowered his eyes. “If that is how you dance, alone in the rain, when you think no one is watching…” His voice trailed off. “I just want to see you once, up there.” He looked up, and you see the tenderness in his eyes. But more than that, you see the faith he has in you. He believes in you, and that makes you brave.

You step forward, not toward the makeup table but toward him. Putting a hand on his shoulder, you grip his damp shirt and raise yourself up on your toes. His already snug shirt protested the extra tension and the top button popped off, dropping to the floor. If tonight was going to be the night of ‘just one time’ then you were going to take the chance to know just what those lips felt like.

He stopped you. With a hand gently tangled in your hair, Beel stopped you. Just shy of those lips, so close you could feel the word he spoke as much as heard it. “After.”

“After?” You repeated, fighting just slightly against his hold. 

“After.” His eyes were full of a promise that he better deliver on. Beel let you go and gestured again at the make-up. “Do what you can.”

Time starts to fly. You swear the band is speeding up, with each repetition of the song going faster and faster. Between the ticking clock and the weight of his eyes, it was hard to keep a steady hand while you did your best to repair the damage the rain and your tears caused. You did what you could, it was not perfect but it would have to do.

The band had started on the same song for the tenth time. Your heart pounded. Once more you followed Beel through the maze, but this time it was willingly. You slowed when you saw the stage for the first time. You had only ever seen it from the audience, and despite the pressure, you still had to pause and acknowledge the moment. No matter what happened next, a tiny part of your dream was going to come true.

Beel didn’t stop, he burst onto the stage, and shouted to the musical director that there was one more. You took a deep breath to steady your nerves. Then you stepped onto the stage like you owned it. This is where you belong, this was what you were born to do. The host sputtered and attempted to say something, but the musical director held up a hand silencing him.

He climbed up on the stage and motioned Beel away. The man walked in a slow circle taking in every detail of your appearance. He asks you your name, and you give him the one you had chosen for the stage. You waited in silence, knowing he could see every flaw. The mussed hair, imperfect make-up, and the damp feathers that still clung to your skin. He looked at your body but you don’t shrink from his gaze. You straightened your back, thrust out your chest just a little more, and smiled the same way you did when you tried to steal a kiss from Beel. He stops in front of you and looks you in the eyes. Those eyes ask a question that demands an answer. Do you belong here? You do not falter. You look back at him with confidence.

The director tilts his head toward the band and he called out, “One more time.”

You wanted to cheer. You wanted to find and hug the mountain of a man who gave you this chance, but there was no time for that. You stepped into the spotlight. Unprepared for how bright it really was, you are stunned for a moment, but the opening notes of the song bring you back to yourself.

This you know. You have this. You’ve rehearsed these steps, practiced these movements hundreds of times. This time though, this time was different. You weren’t dancing for yourself. This time you have an audience. Not the musical director, or the band. They might be in the room but they were not who you were dancing for. You definitely weren’t dancing for the other ten girls who were looking at the stage with bored and tired eyes. There was only one set of eyes that mattered. Beel’s. Tonight you dance for an audience of one.

The longing you felt as you watched him night after night across the smoky room translated into the way your hand brushed against your skin. The way those eyes made you feel when he looked at you in the alley, how he made you feel like a goddess helped you own that stage. The anticipation you felt for that promised kiss, made every little movement of your body an invitation. 

The music stopped, and you resist the urge to drop to your knees. Without the music to bolster you, with your adrenaline depleted, your confidence started to falter. You could not see the expressions on the faces in front of you. There was silence. Were you supposed to say something? It was going on for too long. You were just about to fill the gap with something when he called a name.

It wasn’t yours.

Your heart sank, and you stepped out of the light. You had done your best, and you were proud.

“Idiot,” you heard a familiar voice say.

Your eyes were still adjusting from being in the spotlight, but you could not mistake that silhouette for anyone else.

“Excuse me?” the director turned to look at him. 

“You heard me,” Beel replied, stepping closer to the stage. He had your coat folded over his arm and while he smiled up at you, you knew his words were not for you, but for the man who could not see what Beel could see. “It’s your loss.”

That smile. It was the same smile that had turned you to putty in the alley. Those eyes still made you feel like you were the only woman in the world. 

“Ready to get out of here?” he asked.

You nodded and made your way off the stage. A part of you wanted to hurry. Yet, when you reached the entrance to the club, you turned your head to look back at the stage. It hurt to leave it behind. You now knew what it felt like, and you wanted more. Without looking, you accepted your coat from Beel, your eyes still lingering on the stage. At least you got to do it once. You lived your dream once.

Beel held open the door and stepped outside into the cold air. The rain had stopped, leaving the air fresh and clear. You took a deep breath and savoured it. You needed a moment to gather the courage for what you needed to do next. It was after, and he had promised you something.

“So, you saw me dance,” you said, turning toward Beel.

“I did,” he answered, with a devilish smile.

“It was for you,” you admitted, closing the distance. The sound of your heels clicking on the pavement seemed loud, but the pounding of your heart was louder. You tug on his suspenders, bringing him nearer. “It was only for you.”

“I know,” he whispered. 

He leaned down toward you and instinctively you rise to meet him. Once again he stopped just shy of your lips. “I said, after.”

“It is after,” you argue. Beel pulled back slightly, and you surged forward chasing him.

“I never said after what,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Okay,” you say with a frustrated sigh. “After what?”

“After you tell me your name,” he answers. “Your actual name not your stage name.”

You blush, realizing that no, you had not, at any time, ever introduced yourself to him. It was definitely time to remedy that situation. “Come closer,” you said. He leaned in, but it was still not close enough. “No, still not close enough,” you demanded.

“Why? Is it a secret?” His eyes were twinkling, and he was willing to play your game.

You nodded, and he drew closer yet. He was leaned down so that you could whisper in his ear. Once you breathed your name into his ear, you tugged gently on it with your lips.

His hands tightened around your waist. You could feel his breathing change, quickening. Pulling back only far enough to see his eyes, you asked. “Is it-“

His lips cut off the question, and you did not mind the interruption. His kiss was fierce and stole the rest of the sentence. It was not what you had imagined in those dreams, but it was what you had wanted, what you had craved. 

Just as you had let yourself be free on the stage, you let yourself go now. You forgot fear, and left hesitation behind, surrendering to the passion you felt in the moment. There was nothing but the press of his mouth against yours, and the way your body fit against his.

The kiss ended abruptly, and only because you needed to breathe. He leaned his forehead down and rested it on yours. There was a moment of silence when all either of you could do was catch your breath. 

You were the one to speak first, asking, “Now what?”

He pulled away and smiled. “Now we go get breakfast. I know a great place, open all night. It’s not far from here. I usually go after my shift.”

You could not help but feel disappointed. Breakfast? Is that how this evening would end? 

Beel reached down and took your hand, and started walking. You followed his lead along the wet streets that shone in the street light. Breakfast. You suppose you were a fool to hope for anything more than that.

You take the time to commit every second of that kiss to memory. If it was to be the only one, you were not going to forget any part of it. Not the way his lips felt or how they tasted. Definitely not how his tongue moved with yours, and how he seemed to know exactly what you liked. Nor would you forget the tease of his teeth on your bottom lip when he ended it.

You were so intent on your thoughts, that you almost missed what he said next.

“Do you like pancakes? They make the best pancakes,” Beel was saying. “Don’t be shy when you order. You are going to need plenty of energy for after.”

“After?” you asked, your steps slowing just a little.

Beel looked back at you and winks. “After.”

**Author's Note:**

> To those who have subscribed to me as an author. Sorry for the radio silence. I am still writing, but lets just say that 2020 has saved its worst for the end of this year. I've not given up on writing, but its not going well. I fully intend on finishing what I've started, but as this is meant as something that brings me joy, I work at my writing when I'm capable. 
> 
> I feel like I'm failing you, and I'm sorry for that. But, I thought I would at least share this piece because I'm really happy with how it turned out.


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